The war of the Wolf, Lion, Stag and Dragon
by Win or Die Winter is Coming
Summary: Before Robert's Rebellion. Before Lyanna's abduction by Rhaegar. Before the tourney of Harenhall. A prequel of Game of Thrones. I own nothing, this world and characters were created by G.R.R. Martin, I am just playing upon the various theories of major ASOIAF characters' parentage.
1. Chapter 1

**Summerhall, 276 AC**

 **Jon.**

The knight walked quickly amidst the ruins of Summerhall. There was an urgency in his step which soon turned into a run. With the legends of old in his mind he wished he could grow wings and fly high into the air, like dragons did when there were still present.

Dreams of insanity had led Aegon V Targaryen – known by the small folk as Egg – to start a fire in Summehall in an attempt to hatch dragon eggs. Yet when the fire had died out, most of the Targaryen dynasty was dead with no dragons to be found.

No, Jon decided. Dreams were just phantasies brought about by thoughts that run into one's head during the day. They did not predict the future.

Yet when he arrived in the North East tower of the once great Summerhall he found Rhaegar sitting at its steps, his nose deep inside a book which colourful pages and black dragon wings.

"My prince" Jon mumbled and fell on one knee.

Rhaegar eye's sifted from the pages of the book and found his friend's face. He smiled, yet his smile never quite reached his eyes. "There is no need for such formality, my friend"

He closed the book and put it on the side, rising to the air and brushing the dust from his clothes. His expression seemed dreamlike for a minute. "I had the most peculiar of dreams last night. I was in the Red Keep with my Lord Father, breaking our fast.

When the servant girl asked my Father what he wanted he answered 'Eggs' and produced one out of thin air. This egg was medium sized, a shade of pale green with golden veins. It may have been a dragon egg for all I knew but when my father tapped it with his knife the egg melted to form a pool of gold. When the servant girl came to me next I produced an egg out of thin air. It was a medium-sized egg, one which could have belonged to a snake. When I tapped it with my sword it shattered into a million pieces. Disappointed, I had another go and this time I produced another egg, a dragon's egg by all accounts. This one was bigger than the last two and it had the strangest shade of colouring. One minute it would appear purple, then deep blue. Yet, when I tapped it with my dagger it would not break. The servant girl came back, this time carrying a dragon egg herself. That one was even larger than the previous one and was pale white, like mother's milk, like the albino pup we found in the dungeons of the Red Keep once – you know, the one with the white fur and red eyes. The girl went to give the egg to myself yet my father snatched it from her arms and tried to break it, though it did not break, only altered colour and became grey. Angrily he threw it at the furthest end of the table, where it was cold and dark. My turn came again and it was to be my final turn. The egg I produced was the largest of them all, a dark colour veined with red, the Targaryen colours. I made an attempt to hold it but before I was able to, my Lord Father had snatched it away from me, claiming it for his own and using everything he could to break it. Yet the more he tried the larger the egg seemed to grow until at some point it exploded, swallowing all who were present in the room, myself, my father and the servant girl"

Jon was silent all throughout Rhaegar's descriptions. When the prince was done the knight stroked his chin thoughtfully. "A dream, my prince, that is all and no more"

Rhaegar laughed with this smile of his that never quite reached his eyes. Even so he was the most beautiful thing Jon had seen in all his lifetime, with his slender Targaryen features, the slim nose, the sharp jaws, his indigo eyes and his white hair sparkling under the sunlight.

"Maybe so" he said as he walked with his friend around the ruins of Summerhall. "Yet I foresaw that fire would burn the centre of Kings Landing and early last spring it did just that"

"And thank the Gods the Fire did not spread. His Grace is troubled by dreams of fire as well. Only his actions after, seem to involve most oft than not the death of others" Jon said, daring to speak boldly.

Rhaegar regarded him with caution for a moment before he spoke his next words carefully. "The royals dream and we call them prophecies. Yet how far away is madness from wisdom?"

Jon went to reply yet not finding the appropriate words he remained silent. Rhaegar laughed and clasped his friend's shoulder. "Tell me, then. Why did you rush here in such a manner?"

With all the talk about prophecies and dreams Jon had almost forgotten the original reason he had been sent to call the Prince. "The Queen Regent, your mother… She has given birth. The babe is healthy it appears, yet it will not stop crying. You have been called to the Red Keep at once"

Without a moment to lose Rhaegar started running to his horse, Jon following in his footsteps. He rode his stallion and made an attempt to start galloping before he turned to Jon again.

"Is it a girl or a boy?" he asked, the uncertainty evident in his tone, as Rhaegar knew that his fate rested with the baby's sex.

"You have a new brother, my Prince. He is to be named Viserys" Jon replied and a dark cloud gathered over Rhaegar's face as he started galloping back to the Red Keep, the weight of what he had said finally dawning onto Jon.

The Prince would need to find a bride and soon.

 **A/N: I own nothing. This world was created by George R.R. Martin and I am just guessing what events may have transpired before Robert's Rebellion. Leave reviews if you are interested so I will know whether to continue it as a story or as a series of one shots.**


	2. Chapter 2

**The tourney at Lannisport, 276 AC**

 **Cersei**

Cersei's blonde curls fell elegantly on her neck and shoulders. Jeyne Farman had fashioned them for her and pinned some on the side with golden ornaments in the shape of flowers. She was wearing her favourite gown which had a deep blood-red colour and golden gardens and trees decorated the middle part of it and her sleeves. Red and gold, the colours of her house Lannister.

She looked like a princess today, she decided. Melara had said so herself and so had Jaime, her twin, when he had entered her room this very morning. She had been half naked then, much to the shock of Jeyne who dropped the vase of flowers she had been holding and excused herself quickly. The twins had laughed then and Cersei had felt tempted to wear Jaime's clothing instead of hers and pretend she was a knight.

To her own disappointment though, her body had started changing and so had Jaime's. They could no longer swap places as they had when they had been younger. Besides, this time she did want to attend the tourney and gaze again at the crown prince's beautiful yet sad eyes. The song Rhaegar had played the previous night during the feast had reduced her to tears. It was a song about long-lost love and relatives something he had played in honour of the Baratheon storm lord and lady who had been lost at sea. His song had hit too close to home as she had lost a mother as well.

Cersei had told the prince as much when she had first approached him during the tourney. He had been kind to her, she remembered and when the next song played she had dragged him to the dance floor with her. They had shared a dance and Cersei would have shared many more with him if not for the Prince who excused himself quickly and returned to his chambers with his trusted friends and knights.

His absence had ruined the rest of the Feast for her but now, she was sited next to her aunt and brother watching Rhaegar ride his mighty white stallion and unhorsing Gerion. Despite herself she rose to the air and clapped her hands, a bright smile on her face.

Jaime regarded her thoughtfully. "Before long I will be jousting at tournaments and whoever comes before me I shall unhorse. I shall crown you Queen of Love and Beauty in each of them and defend your honour to the death"

Cersei smiled to him while her aunt Genna Lannister watched them carefully.

As Rhaegar unhorsed yet another knight Cersei rose to the air.

"Careful, sister. You wouldn't want to piss your pants in front of the prince" little Tyrion said and she looked at him with an air of distaste.

Her younger brother was a vile, monstrous creature who had caused the death of her mother.

"What is he doing here?" she asked pointing with her finger at Tyrion.

Her young brother sighed. "If only you had shown half as much interest in me as you have shown Prince Rhaegar, why, you would have pissed your pants already"

Cersei went to smack him but Jaime held her hand.

"I invited him" he confessed and she said nothing to that, deciding to pretend the little monster did not exist.

As the tourney came to an end only Rhaegar was left, her gallant prince jousting against a knight she did not know.

"He is Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He is a member of King Aery's Kingsguard. Father says I will be sent to squire for him. Soon, I will become like him" Jaime said.

"Or not" Little Tyrion added and Cersei gave him a smack on the head, something she very much enjoyed.

"Cersei" her aunt, Genna, said. "This not ladylike behaviour. If you are to wed the Prince your behaviour must change"

The girl looked at her aunt, wide-eyed. "Truly?"

"Oh, yes. Your Lord Father has made certain arrangements. It will be announced at the end of the tourney" she said and looked at her twin brother, Jaime for reasons unknown to Cersei.

By then, she did not care whether the vilest of creatures stood next to her. When Prince Rhaegar run with his horse toward Ser Arthur Dayne she could not hold the shout that left her lips… and soon turned into a scream.

Rhaegar had been unhorsed by the other knight and Cersei run from her sit, closer to where the two knights where. When her Prince rose from the ground after taking Ser Arthur's hand she exhaled in relief.

That night, during the feast, Cersei allowed herself to drink more than one cup of wine. The liquid was fire in her throat but she was alive with happiness and she could not stop giggling despite her visit to Maggy the Frog with her friends. The witch had said some things about her, but she was wrong, Cersei knew.

 _Just a damn, old bag of bones_ , she thought to herself and smiled pleasantly to her little brother who regarded her with caution.

When she saw Rhaegar passing by her table she almost stood up and shouted his name but the prince had already stopped, looking at her perplexed.

"When you fell from your horse I was most terrified for your health. Know that you fought bravely and honourably and despite the fast another knight won, you are the best knight in all of Westeros" Cersei said, the wine making her bold.

The prince smiled politely in her direction. "And how was it that I fought bravely and honourably? I just did what I was told to do. Put on an armour and ride against my opponent. It was not a great quest or a prophecy that I fulfilled. This is not what songs are made off"

Cersei had grown a deep shade of red, realising she had embarrassed herself. She mumbled an apology and looked the other way as Rhaegar walked past her and sat next to the right hand side of the King. The King looked frail, the girl noticed. There was also a spark of madness in his eyes every time he looked upon a flame. Lord Tywin Lannister was sited on his left and her father looked ever so gallant. There was an air of authority in him, an air of power.

He raised his cup in the air and all the lords and ladies of the Hall grew silent. "I hope his Grace is pleased with the tournament arranged for the birth of his second son, Viserys Targaryen. With the birth of a new son, a new era comes forth. New allegiances. Our houses have been ever so close and it is time we made this official, do you not think, your Grace?"

Cersei's breath caught between her lungs. She hadn't expected such a bold move from her father. Yet again she was certain that Lord Tywin must have talked about this with King Aerys himself. This was just formality.

King Aerys coughed and took a long, steady sip from his wine cup, regarding Tywin, as if deep in thought. "It is true that no princesses or ladies with Targaryen blood have been found for my son, yet… You have been the Hand of the King, lord Tywin, have you not?"

Her father nodded, watching the King's moves carefully.

"And would you not agree that a Hand is but a servant to the King?"

Her father's lips pressed together in a tight line yet he said nothing.

Cersei stole a quick look at her prince and realised that he was as shocked with his information as she was.

"How, then do you expect to wed the daughter of a servant to the son of the Dragon? The match is far beneath Rhaegar, I am afraid. Besides, the Prince has been promised already to Elia Martell"

Cersei collapsed onto her chair, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She realised there was a smirk upon King Aery's face as he regarded her father. Lord Tywin had been left open mouthed and he wasn't the only one as Rhaegar watching everything around him with confusion, sadness and surprise.

"It is said that the Kings takes a shit and then Hand comes to wipe it off" King Aerys added cracking a smile and the Hall seemed to suddenly bloom with laughter.

Her father's expression remained serious and with long, measured steps he walked away from the feast. Cersei stood up, not able to bear her tears any longer and run after him, not before she noticed that her little brother had a bright smile fixed upon his face.

She hated him for that.

Cersei was back into her chambers and she threw her golden flowers on the ground, probably smashing them but she did not care. She tried to unknot her hair and the laces of her gown in a frenzy until she heard a knock on her door and before she could reply her twin was there.

He walked a few steps forth and crushed her into a lion hug, stroking her hair affectionately while she cried. Never before had she felt so embarrassed.

"Am I so ugly that the prince wont look at me?" she asked and remembering Magi the Frog's warning whispered that the King Aerys himself would not ask her to marry him.

Jaime held her tighter into his arms. "Sister, you are the rising sun. You simply blinded Rhaegar with your beauty that is all. He is a fool to have refused you, him and his father both"

He kissed her lips then, slowly, and she responded, running her fingers through the golden mane of hair he possessed. That night they slept on the same bed, as they had done so countless times before when they were younger, only this time they did so as man and woman.


	3. Chapter 3

**King's Landing, late 279 AC**

 **Jon**

Arthur Dayne and Gerold Hightower were standing next to Rhaegar as he patiently waited for his new bride to arrive.

Jon, himself was further away, choosing instead to watch for any silent threats amidst the crowd rather than stand too close to the Prince. Who would be bold enough to attack the Prince he knew not and it was known that Rhaegar was widely loved by the common people.

Somewhere near him stood Jaime Lannister, Lord Tywin's son. After the campaign against the Kingswood Brotherhood the boy had been knighted by Ser Arthur Dayne. Because of this, the blonde youth was never too far away from the older knight, laughing with him, learning from him. Despite the cold plate that King Aerys had served his previous Hand, Jaime had been quick to follow them back to King's Landing. When his Lord Father had protested, Aerys had only given him a silent look which spoke volumes.

Even though the tourney at Lannisport had occurred two years past, neither the Lannisters nor the Targaryens had forgotten about it. Rhaegar had confessed to Jon that very night that he thought his father's moves were ill advised. The Prince had been as shocked as most everyone else in the room, upon receiving news of his betrothal, as the Kingsguard and the circle of the King's advisors had been certain Rhaegar would have been married off to the Lannister girl.

The young girl had been in tears upon receiving the news and Jon remembered the Prince's expression. He had felt guilty for that slight even though he had not done anything to support it. Nevertheless, Jon had a felt a sense of relief as well. He had not liked the look on the Lannister girl's face. She had had hungry eyes, that one, the eyes of a lion before an attack. Rumour had it that she was to visit Kings Landing soon though Jon was not so certain considering the families' hatred.

How it had all began remained a mystery yet some had said that Aerys had attempted to bed Joanna Lannisters, Tywin's wife, before the Lannister betrothal. That had been an open wound for both men and whether it had actually occurred or not Jon did not know.

Thank the Gods that Aerys had been sane back then, or rather, not as mad as he was now and he had not acted hastily.

As the noises of carriages and horses arriving sounded, Jon watched Rhaegar's expression change. A group of women started walking forth with Dornish men guarding their steps. They were all wearing lovely, flowing dresses of all colours, their hairs dancing to their waists, their smiles big and plenty. To Jon these acts held no attraction.

He waited until Elia Martell walked forth amongst her ladies in waiting. She was fair, Jon had to admit, with the typical Martell features of dark hair, black almond eyes and olive skin. She was wearing a white and silver gown which hugged the curves of her body tightly.

Rhaegar walked forth, wearing a black suit of clothes with dark red patterns embroiled at the sides and rubies decorating his breast plate. His flowing white-silver hair fell on his shoulders elegantly. He was clean shaven and bright eyed.

The Prince looked handsome, brave and beautiful, next to whom the Dornish princess was but a 'kitchen drab', Jon thought scornfully.

Nevertheless, Jon said nothing, holding his thoughts and jealously to himself, as he watched the matrimonial ceremony take place. The new Princess exchanged vows of love and fealty with the Prince and they kissed under Baelor's sept, much to the peoples' pleasure who started clapping and gasping, smiling and cheering.

The Prince was loved by all, whether that be the common people or the Lord and Ladies of the Court. When Rhaegar turned to face the crowd, after thanking his Lord Father for arranging such a match, he held Elia's hand in his and smiled, only his smile never reached his eyes.

He saw the common people cry from happiness and Jon Connington cried as well, only he did so out of pain for his lost love.

 _I rose too high, loved too hard, dared too much. I tried to grasp a star, overreached, and fell,_ he thought with sadness.

….

Later that night or rather in the early hours of the morning, Jon found himself at the top of the Red Keep with a wineskin in his hand, containing a white wine of unknown heritage. Myriads of casks of Dornish Red had been sent to King's Landing as celebration for Rhaegar's wedding, yet Jon could not stomach the sickeningly sweet beverage.

The Tower of the Red Keep had been Rhaegar's place. The place he went to when he needed to be away from the falsehood and the pretence. Sometimes Jon accompanied him and they shared jests and laughs.

Remembering the good times with fondness, Jon often took long gulps of the white wine and stared at the clear skies, wondering whether winter was going to come soon to them.

 _Let it come_ , he thought bitterly. _Let it come and kill the Dornish Princess in her sleep._

When he heard footsteps behind him he gulped and quickly threw the wineskin to the side. Whoever it was, he could not appear drunk in front of them. He held his breath in terror but it was only Rhaegar who came, wearing nothing else but a loose velvet black robe which barely concealed his nakedness.

"My old friend. What are you doing up this late?" the Prince asked gently.

Jon shook his head quickly. "I… The music from the Feast was too loud"

Rhaegar pretended to clean his ears and listen more carefully. Then he smiled. "I hear nothing"

It was true that the music and the singing from the Feast had since died out, yet it was the only excuse he could find in his drunken state. Instead of finding a more suitable excuse Jon simply shook his head and turned to the Prince. "And what about you, my Prince? What has kept you up this late? Newlyweds tend to spend… More time in their chambers"

Rhaegar smiled again, a sad smile. "What do you think of my new bride, Jon? And please tell me your thoughts truly"

Jon hesitated for a second. He had waited for this moment ever since he had lain eyes on the Princess of Dorne. He had wanted to tell Rhaegar she was not a suitable match, he had wanted to tell him that Rhaegar should look at his friend instead, yet he had dared not utter a single word.

"I… Elia Martell is a gentle, good and gracious lady" he managed at last, biting his tongue.

Rhaegar laughed this time.

"I told you to tell it to me true. Yet some truths do not bear saying and some lies are necessary" he added in sadness and suddenly they heard a female cry from the King's chambers.

The Prince pressed his lips together tightly until they formed a thin line and closed his eyes, bearing all the sadness of the world. Jon wanted to go to him and hug him yet he stayed put in place.

This was not the first time they had heard Queen Rhaella scream nor would it be the last. It was common knowledge that the King forced himself on her most nights. That was the way of the world, however, and when a man was wed to a woman, she could do nothing else but conform to whatever the man had in mind for her.

Jon decided to return to their original subject. "Princess Elia… She looks frail, my Prince. Too frail to bear children and sometimes… she looks lost yet I have only seen her once or twice upon her visits to King's Landing"

Rhaegar nodded and sighed, taking from the side a harp Jon had not seen him carry into the Tower's terrace. His fingers started playing gently, a sad song, but the notes were high enough to drown the screaming, if only temporary.

"She is good and kind, yet simple. It is hard to talk to her for longer than a few minutes. It is not the same as when I talk to you or Arthur or Ser Barristan Selmy. Even father and mother and the old cook, Maria, who runs the kitchen in Baelor's sept have more to say than her"

"It is early, my Prince. She is shy. Give it time and she may… Open up to you" Jon said between clenched teeth.

A high note sounded from the harp. "Maybe so. Yet very few have married for love. Marriage is duty, it's a political alliance"

Jon nodded. The next words that left his lips did not seem to belong to him; the wine had made him bold or stupid or both. "Did you do your duty?"

A shrill note sounded and Rhaegar put his harp to the side, looking uncomfortable. "I… No, no. Not what father does. She was willing. She never cried, never told me to stop. I tried to be gentle, I don't know…"

The Prince seemed to be at a loss of words and Jon regretted asking him such question. Rhaegar's answer had done nothing but raise the Prince's esteem higher to Jon yet it had also left him with a pang of jealously.

"Let us hope then that her delicate health will not stand in the way of her bearing you a child. Soon, there may be another Prince or Princess"

Rhaegar almost shuddered and nodded. Jon could not help himself any longer. He put an arm around the Prince's shoulders.

From beneath them, the sounds of the coming day echoed in the streets. Girls' giggling sounded and very aware of where his hand was, Jon pulled away and looked on the streets below. Three girls were walking, wearing silks, flowing dresses and big smiles.

"Are these not Princess Elia's ladies in waiting?" Jon said, pointing at the parade of girls.

Rhaegar looked in the streets and his brows tightened. "I do not know. In all honesty I have never paid them much attention"

This pleased Jon greatly who smiled widely but kept looking at the girls, nevertheless. "Surely they must be. See, the woman on the left? The one with the purple dress? She only arrived a week past with Elia Martell and the rest of her ladies in waiting. She is…"

Suddenly the woman turned around, probably hearing the sounds of their voices and smiled at them. She had long dark hair and haunting violet eyes. Some men, such as Barristan Selmy had found her most attractive, as the great knight had conferred to Jon after they had been first introduced. Her appeal did not shake Jon; the only reason her remembered her was because she was the sister of one of the Kingsguard knights.

He went to say as much to Rhaegar, only that the Prince was left looking at the woman, wide-eyed as if he just seen a ghost. The Prince swallowed.

"Who is she?" he managed to whisper at last.

Jon felt a pang of jealously inside his chest. "She is Ashara Dayne, sister to the Sword of the Morning. I hear they are very close. She is lady in waiting to your Bride"

He hoped that this information would make whatever fascination Rhaegar held for her, wash away.

"Do you believe in prophecies and dreams, Jon?" the Prince asked him.

The knight sifted uncomfortably. "You know my answer to this already. I thought you had forgotten such notions, long ago"

"There must be three…" Rhaegar whispered thoughtfully and then turned to his friend, facing him with new energy. "She was in my dream, Jon. She was the servant girl who served eggs to me and Father!"

…

 **A/N: I own nothing, just playing with some of the theories put forward for major ASOIAF characters' parentage. If you are interested and want more, leave a review or follow/fav.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Kings Landing, 281 AC**

 **Cersei**

Cersei had arrived at her bed late at night. She would have gladly cherished a few more hours there, despite the fact that the King had granted her and her ladies in waiting the most uncomfortable of chambers. Their chambers had two rooms inside, no bigger than 4 carriages put together. As a Lannister Lady she had taken the bigger of the two rooms, of course, and Merala and Jeyne had slept in the other room.

Frustrated she fumbled with her gown wondering whether her hair was in place, whether there was a crease in her dress as her chambers had had no mirrors to check if everything was in place.

 _Of course._

She rubbed her tired eyes, her two handmaids running after her and wondered why the King was throwing such a commotion. When her servant girls had woken her up telling her the King was shouting and throwing things she could not have stayed in her bed for all the gold in Casterly Rock.

Instead, fearing that she may have come too late for Jamie she run to the Throne Room amongst countless other Ladies, Lords and Guards.

Aerys had risen from his chair, his long white hair almost reaching his knees. His finger nails had grown even longer and he looked much more deranged. The King's finger moved and there was an angry expression on his face.

"Why can I not see my grandson? Is he not the Prince that was promised?" his mocking tone suggested. "Or is he as frail as your firstborn girl? Bring him to me!"

The King was asking the Prince and Cersei's gaze lingered to where Rhaegar stood, only this time there was anger in his expression and not the sad smile she was accustomed to seeing.

Maester Pycelle stepped forward, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Your Grace, princess Elia has just gone through childbirth. She is most weak and so is the child. I have given her milk of the poppy but she needs to rest and the prince needs to rest as well…"

Aery's mad eyes turned to the Maester. "What the snake of Dorne does or does not do, does not concern me. I want to see the Prince. See if he as strong as what was promised"

Cersei spotted the Queen clutching at her chest, a young boy, no older than six years of age.

 _Viserys_ , she guessed and felt pity for the poor woman who seemed to be in terror.

Silently, she waited until Rhaegar signalled to one of the Knights next to him and whispered something in his ear. Before long a wet nurse came with a babe in her arms. She looked confused and slightly scared.

"Bring him to me" Aerys commanded and Rhaegar took the baby from the wet nurse's arms and brought it forth to the King, his arm forming a shield between the two.

"Give him to me" Aerys commanded and Rhaegar hesitated while Rhaella let out a small scream in terror.

For once, Cersei did not envy the wife that had been wed to Rhaegar.

Defeated, the Prince passed gently the baby to the King who gazed at it, deep in thought. Then he walked to the nearest lamp and held the baby atop the fire.

Shouts and cries echoed in the room, Cersei's one of them as the King gazed at the pyre with a hungry look. Rhaegar stepped in front of him then and grasped the boy from the arms of the King, stepping down from the altar.

The King seemed strangely at peace. "Take care of the new Prince, my son, for he seems to be in the prophecies"

Rhaegar did not need to be told twice. He almost run out of the Throne Room, with five guards in his step. The Ladies and Lords made way for him to pass.

And there, next to one of the pyres, stood Jaime her beloved twin brother. He had arrived only last night and the five years that had separated them seem to have turned him into a man grown. He was wearing silver armour and his golden mane had grown, shining under the fires. Next to him was the knight who had won at the tourney in Lannisport, Dayne. He had been the one to knight Jaime after her brother had helped him slay the psychotic Smiling Knight.

She walked to him quickly, her ladies following at her heels. When he saw her, recognition lit his features, making him seem ever so gallant, yet he stayed silent, throwing a quick look at the King. Cersei nodded and waited patiently until King Aerys had left the room.

The Lords and Ladies of Court seemed to let out a sigh of relief.

"Sister, sweet sister!" Jamie told in her ear and held her in a tight embrace.

"Come, let's walk in the Gardens and talk" Cersei said and Jaime nodded while leaving Melara and Jeyne in The Throne Room.

"How tall you have grown" Cersei teased, raising to her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek when they reached the Gardens.

Jaime laughed.

"And how fair you have grown" he commented and pressed behind her ear a loose strand of blonde hair. "Tell me, sister. How does our Lord Father fayre? Our brother, little Tyrion? What about Casterly Rock? I have heard there is still plenty of gold to go around"

Cersei smiled shyly to him. "You have been long gone, dear brother. Though I can't say I have been back home much"

"Does King's Landing hold such an appeal?" he asked gently, his head facing the direction of the Throne Room where King Aerys had just had a fit.

"It is not always so, dear brother. When Aerys sleeps or watches his fires, there are dances and tourneys… Oh, the intrigue and the gossip are not far behind of course, making it all the more interesting" Cersei replied.

Jaime smiled in return yet he seemed to find such things not in the least bit interesting. Cersei sighed and took his hand in her own, tracing lines across his palms.

"My dear, sweet brother. How have I missed you! Though, I am afraid I have some bad news to share with you"

Jaime's face darkened. "What is I,t Cersei?"

She sighed, trying to project as much of the hurt and disappointment on her face as she could. "Father…"

"Is he all right?" Jaime asked, terror clouding his features.

Cersei nodded. "Yes, but I am afraid that he has arranged a marriage for you. He will tell you himself once you return to Casterly Rock"

Jaime's face fell. "With whom?"

Cersei tone was grave. "Does it matter? What matters is you will return to King's Landing to play Lord of Lannister, never to go out on adventures again, never to cross swords with another man unless there is dire need, never to kiss your own sister…"

Jaime looked as if he had been stricken down with a hammer.

"What is worse is that you will have to stay at Casterly Rock and father children, many children and listen to boring upon boring matter… Your wife to be is Lysa Tully, a maid of fourteen, fifteen I am not sure, yet rumour has it that she has given her maidenhood to another already and her face is as plump as her manly hands" Cersei added in a sad tone.

Her twin looked to be at a loss of words. She had hit a weak spot, Cersei realised. Her fingers dug into his hair and caressed his head. A single tear run down her beautiful cheeks. Jaime brushed it away as she had expected him to do. "If you have another wife I will never be able to see you again. Not like this, not in the way we are"

Cersei let go of his hands and walked away slowly, sniffing, waiting.

Jaime walked in front of her. "There must be another way"

Cersei held his hands again and smiled gently. "I have thought long and hard about this and there is but one solution, my dear brother"

"Tell me"

Cersei swallowed hard and smiled. She had him. "Ser Harlan Grandison, a knight of the Kingsguard died recently. This means there is an empty space in the Kingsguard"

Jamie stayed silent, his hands moving away from his sister's. "I am too young, Cersei. The King will never abide to this. And if I become a knight of the Kingsguard I forsake whatever claim I have to Casterly Rock. I will be able to have no wife, father no children…"

"Yes, but you will be close to me! You will never had to wed another, be it Lysa Tully or someone else. We can be together, forever. And when the time comes, father will bestow Casterly Rock to me and I will be Lady of the House. I shall not need to marry anyone and I will be with you. "

Jaime stared at his sister in perplex. "What about the King? You have seen how he behaves. You know of the hate he bares for our father. He will never agree"

Cersei smiled sweetly. The hate he bares for our father is what I am counting on. "You need not worry yourself, brother. I have friends… They will make the necessary arrangements"

Jamie pressed his lips together. "Our father will not be happy with this"

"Nor am I expecting him to be" Cersei said and realising that night was coming upon them she led her twin through the corridors of the Red Keep back to her chambers.

They passed the Royal Chambers and Cersei paused as she heard a baby cry and watched as two ladies rushed to the rooms.

She pointed one of them to Jaimie. "She is ser Arthur Dayne's sister. Rumours have it that she is descended from the Targaryen line herself and according to the men and women of King's landing, one of the most beautiful women in Westeros"

Cersei watched her brother's reaction. "I don't believe such rumours. The most beautiful woman in Westeros is standing right next to me"

She led Jaimie to her room and there her twin paused. "Cersei, we cannot do this… Not here… If I am to wed Lysa Tully…"

Cersei gazed at him with her mouth open. "After everything I have told you how can you still entertain that idea? We will be separated. Forever"

She sat at the edge of her bed and looked at him, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "Cersei. I love you and only you but to deny the sit at Casterly Rock…"

"It seems to me you don't love me enough then" she snapped at him but then realising her mistake she spoke more softly. "Think about it. You will be all in white, a sword brother of the Kingsguard. You will ride next to Arthur Dayne and other great names at the forefront of action. Whenever there is war or conflict they shall send you… Maids will shy when you walk past them…"

Her fingers had found their way into Jaime's shirt and he had not pushed them away. "I will find my way to your bed every night and I will make you forget each and every one of them…"

Jaime grabbed her from the neck and pushed her down for a kiss. Cersei responded, grabbing at his shoulders passionately. A smile formed in her lips and as her twin brother ripped her clothes apart and entered her she knew she had won.

The next morning Jaime gave his consent and within the coming weeks Cersei had made the necessary arrangements. She had spoken to the King herself and even though, at first he had scorned her, upon hearing how angry her father would be with such a notion the King had smiled and had accepted.

 _When you play the Game of Thrones, you win or you die_ , Cersei thought to herself. _This is but one small victory yet soon I will win the war._

…


	5. Chapter 5

**Kings Landing, 281 AC**

 **Jon**

Rhaegar was fuming. This was the first time Jon had seen the Crown Prince this angry.

In his hands he was still holding his son and he was pacing up and down. The baby must have sensed his father's displeasure because it soon started crying and Rhaegar simply gazed down in perplex.

A wet nurse came and gently but firmly took the baby away from the Prince's arms. Rhaegar collapsed in the nearest chair, only to soon stand up again and rush towards the library. Jon followed in his footsteps only to soon stop when Rhaegar spotted Maester Pycelle.

He rushed to him and the poor man looked scared. What with the deranged King and his obsession with fire Jon did not blame him. "How is she?"

The Prince did not even need to specify who _she_ was. The Maester took in a deep breath. "This childbirth has left her even weaker than the previous one. I suggest she does not raise from her bed in the coming weeks"

"She will live?" Rhaegar asked.

The Maester nodded yet he seemed unable to say the next words. When he did, it seemed to Jon as if he had grown even smaller than before. "I am afraid the Princess will not be able to bear anymore children. If she does stay pregnant… She will die in childbirth if not before"

Rhaegar swallowed and nodded. A shrill childish sound was heard then and Jon turned to look at where Princess Rhaella had just emerged from. She was small, smaller than most children her age and she had a vacant look about her.

"My daughter" the prince said and went to hug her but the child stayed limp in his arms, making the smallest of gestures.

When Rhaegar put her down again Rhaella started coughing, again and again, Rhegar and Jon both trying to hold her until at the end she spit blood. Maester Pycelle had already brought with him the milk of the poppy and some other herbs and teas. She gave some to Rhaella who seemed to instantly relax. A maid came to take her away and the sadness that crowned the Prince's features made Jon's heart break.

"Walk with me, Jon" Rhaegar said as, once again he headed towards the library. His steps were quick and measured and once he entered he stood against the nearest wall and pressed his thumbs against his brows.

"How has it come to this, Jon? Tell me" he whispered, his eyes looking at the ceiling.

The knight swallowed. "I do not know, my Prince"

"Rhaella… Will she live? The Maesters say it will be a miracle if she lives to celebrate her tenth birthday. My son... He looks strong enough, though if he stays in close proximity to my Father he will burn in the Pyre, soon enough. And Elia? My poor wife, she will not be able to rise from her bed to defend her own children…" Rhaegar paused. "Do you know what the worst of it was? When Maester Pycelle told me she would not be able to bear any children, _I was happy._ Can you believe this? I was happy that I would no longer need to visit her chambers even though she has been nothing but kind to me"

Jon knew the Prince wanted no replies to this. And what could the knight say? There was nothing to be said.

Rhaegar finally raised a letter he had produced from the desk of his office. "From Maester Aemon. On the wall. He says the wildings have been gathering. He says more than one ranger has told him that he has sighted white walkers. There is one every year to be sure. He has heard it from the mouth of wildings as well. He says the cases have been but few but should they increase they will send a thousand ravens around the kingdom. Will it be enough, Jon? The cold winds are rising, my friend. Do you believe in legends, in myths, in dreams, in prophecies?

This time Jon replied. "My Prince winter has come and passed. Spring is upon us, you need to worry about what the future holds for us. Besides, you know that I do not believe in such things"

Rhaegar cracked a humourless smile. "I wish what you were saying my friend, was true. The dragon needs to have three heads and there are but three Targaryen children, one which will soon die or worse. The two left? Will they be the true dragons? Will they be able to fend off the horrors of the North? And what of Ashara Dayne? Why was she in my dreams before I even set eyes on her?"

"My prince!" Jon shouted, looking as Rhaegar's eyes as they turned into a deeper shade of indigo, a touch of madness in them. "Such talk reminds me of your Lord Father. Please stop"

The Prince's eyes turned serious once again, the momentary flicker of madness disappearing. "Yes, you are right. And what should we do about my Lord Father?"

Jon said nothing.

Rhaegar sighed and took a parchment of paper and a pen. He wrote and wrote and then asked for Myles Mooton to be brought forth. He told him to send a raven to the Wall. Next he called for Richard Lonmouth and asked him to bring Oswell Whent and Arthur Dayne to him.

The squire did as he was bid and soon the two Knights of the Kingsguard arrived. Rhaegar spoke to Oswell Whent first, the other knight's expression becoming one of understanding. Arthur Dayne hesitated.

"We have sworn fealty to the King" he said.

"I do not ask you to break such fealty my oldest friend. To do so would be unjust of me. I only ask that you deliver my messages in secret. With this, I trust my life in your hands"

The Sword of the Morning said nothing, only nodded in silence and then the Knights and squires were off.

When the first rays of sun fell inside the Library, Rhaegar looked exhausted. Jon was still with him. In slow movements the Prince rose and headed to Elia's bechambers, Jon at his foosteps. When he went to enter his chamber, Jon paused but Rhaegar signalled him to come inside.

The Royal chambers smelt of blood and sickness and Jon found it hard not to retch at the side. There were servant girls inside the room as well as a wet nurse.

Rhaegar smiled as he picked up his sleeping son from the woman's arms. He entered Elia's chambers and despite her sickness the Dornish Princess was awake. She smiled when she saw him. She went to rise from her bed but Rhaegar pushed her back.

"What shall we name him? Our son?" she asked gently, her voice a faint whisper.

"Aegon, like his great grandfather. He will grow up to be a great man" he said.

"He is a prince" Elia stated.

"He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire. Yet the dragon had three heads. There must be one more"

"He will make dragons fly" Elia said in a childish tone and at that moment Jon knew why despite the seeming love the couple shared, Rhaegar could not truly love her.

Elia was like a child, thought like a child, having none of the wits adults did. She was simple minded. An innocent.

"Yes, he will" Rhaegar replied to her. "Elia… I need to ask something big from you. In a month's time I shall need to travel. To a tourney of sorts. And I cannot leave you here, in King's Landing. You will not be safe"

The Princess seemed confused, yet she nodded. "I will be strong then. I will come. Is the tourney so you can find another wife?"

Her words seemed to shock Rhaegar and Jon both, yet, Elia did not seem averse to it.

"My lady… I would never…" Rhaegar began but she stopped him.

"The Maesters say I can't have any more children. A second wife will be good. We will be such friends, you will see! Our children can play in the gardens and there will be loads of dragons then!" she said happily.

The Prince said nothing only bid his wife and children goodbye and exited the chambers.

"Jon…." Rhaegar said, speaking softly. The other knight nodded. "All the other knights have tasks of their own. You are not of the Kingsguard, yet to you I leave the most important task of all. Keep my lady wife and children safe"

….


	6. Chapter 6

**Winterfell, 281 AC**

 **Ned**

The wind blew against his now, long dark brown hair. His stallion galloped faster and Ned had to hold the reigns just a fraction for the mount to slow down. He gazed around him with an open mouth, the beauty of the North taking his breath away.

Despite the fact he had been away from Winterfell ten years and more the land seemed to have changed little during his time away. Yes, new houses and towers had been built, yes the forest seem to lack a few trees but the green, the ice, the mountains, the flowing rivers, the snow… Nothing had changed.

By the time he arrived in Winterfell, Ned's back was covered in sweat, the shirt he was wearing wet. He was breathing heavily from exertion and he paused, giving himself a few moments to catch his breath.

That's when he saw two horses galloping towards him, with their riders pushing their mounts to their limits. He heard a female and a male voice shouting and he turned around to watch them approach. The female rider was gaining ground, a bright smile covering her features while the male rider seemed to be concentrating hard in getting his stead to go faster.

They were coming towards him, Ned realised and afraid that they would collapse on him he turned his stallion on the other side. Upon watching the female rider pass him, and then the male rider, he decided it had been a wise course of action.

When at last the two riders came to a stop, the female rider was the first to come back to him, while holding the reigns in her hands.

"Ned!" she screamed in delight and crushed him into a bear hug which caused them both to fall on the snow.

She started laughing loudly and Ned could only smile back in response, recognizing his sister, Lyanna.

The male rider came next - Brandon, Ned realised - and helped him up, crushing him into another bear hug.

"Brother, it has been too long!" he said in a deep, male voice.

Brandon was taller than him, bigger and Ned did not doubt stronger.

"You have grown so tall!" Lyanna said happily and gazed at him from head to toe.

"Look Bran, he even has a small beard" she added and pinched the small hairs that grew on his chin.

Eddard who had been too long away from his sister regarded her with an air of caution.

"Stop teasing him, Lya" Brandon said and punched her on the shoulder lightly, much to Ned's dismay but the Northern girl seemed to pay no mind to that.

In return, she punched Ned on the chest and he gazed at her, perplexed. "Come on, fight me. Lets see what you have learnt in the Eyrie"

She was in a fighting position, Brandon watching the exchange curiously.

Ned was never one for laughing but at that moment he couldn't help himself. It started with a small smile and before long he was rolling on the snow. Lyanna took that as an offence and jumped on him, pushing his face to the snow but Ned couldn't stop.

When the youngest member of their family, Benjen, arrived, he gazed at both of them with an open mouth. The boy was twelve yet eager to participate in everything "Me too!"

He jumped atop them and after what felt like years Brandon finally separated Lyanna and Bennjen both, from Ned's chest. He was holding Lyanna in his right and Benjen on his left.

Lyanna was pouting while Benjen was kicking and squirming. Brandon put the two Stark children on the side and then helped Ned up. "There seems to be wolf blood in you after all! Thank the old Gods, I thought your heart would have stayed frozen after leaving, but it seems to me it has started melting. All for the good!"

When the Stark children returned to Winterfell they were all laughs and smiles. Lord Rickard regarded them with caution and then held a splendid feast to celebrate Eddard's return, inviting most of his banners men. That night Ned sat at his father's right hand side, instead of Brandon. His eldest brother seemed not to mind as he was placed only an arm's reach away, next to Lyanna and Benjen. He was telling his younger brother of how he visited the Wall once and how he went out in a range mission with them. He described very animatedly how he came across Giants and Bears and how he threw himself against both of them and buried his sword in their chest. By the time he finished Benjen's eyes had lit up in fascination.

"He has the blood of the Wolf, that one, and so does you sister" Rickard confessed to Ned. "Headstrong, willful and hot tempered. Yet even the wild wolf can be tamed and I have arranged a suitable much for Bran. He is to wed to Catelyn Tully. She is Hoster Tully's eldest daughter, patient, calm, dutiful, honourable and quite comely I have been told. Lets hope she will be able to temper your brother's urges"

Ned smiled, yet said nothing. His own dreams lay in becoming a Knight, or, if his Lord Father bid it, get some lands of his own near the wall and serve as an advisor to the Lord of Stark. His suspicions were confirmed when Rickard said as much to Ned. "He will need someone to calm him down. Be it his wife or you, if he decides to do anything rash you must stop him"

Ever the dutiful son, Eddard nodded.

Lord Rickard, however, was not done. "Tell me of this friend of yours, Ned. Jon Arryn's ward, Robert Baratheon. He lost his parents recently, did he not?"

Ned nodded. "He is the eldest son of Steffron Baratheon. He is to become Lord of Storm's End, one day. He is a good man, a skillful fighter, a loyal friend"

Rickard hmphed. "What of his other accomplishments?"

Ned smiled back to him, unsure. "He is quick to laugh if that is what you ask and speaks his mind, most oft than not. He is a bit like Bran on that account"

"Can iron be tempered with iron?" Rickard asked, thoughtful and Ned rose his eyebrows unsure. "During your journey from the Eyrie to the North a certain bird flew. Robert's parents have been dead for quite some time and it appears Storm's End needs a new Lady and Lord. Your fostering in the Eyrie is coming to an end, I am afraid. Jon Arryn proposed a match between your sister and the young Lord of the Stormlands. I had some doubts about the boy to be sure, but after hearing your opinion of him I have put them at rest. Robert seems to agree with this but I had thought to break it to Lyanna gently. I shall tell her after the feast"

Eddard nodded and his thoughts went back to his strong-headed friend. Robert was very tall, six feet and six inches, broad shouldered and muscled like a maiden's fantasy. Yes… Many a maiden had fallen for his looks. Usually after a long round of drinks, Robert would find himself with a woman; he would promise the world to her in the night and by the next morning forget everything, including her. He was charming though, Ned concluded and very handsome. He was certain that once wed to Lyanna he would remain faithful. He was his friend, to do so otherwise would be an insult both to him and his sister. That is… If his sister would have him.

As he watched Lyanna jumping atop a table and making loud chicken noises which had reduced poor Benjen to tears and all the men in the room to laughter, his father's words came to his mind. _Can iron be tempered with iron?_

Eddard thought so. Eddard hoped so.

…

Long after the feast had come to an end Ned walked back to his chambers, feeling his head pounding. That confused him. He had not drunk more than five glasses of wine. Usually he was able to keep his drink down easier, though Ned was never one for much drink. Robert was different. He could keep his drink down, that one.

He had almost reached his room when he heard clacking noises from his window.

 _Sword fighting at such an hour?,_ Ned wondered in confusion.

Even though he was more tired than he cared to admit, his curiosity got the better of him and silently he walked down the stairs again, near the stables. There, in the yard he found a young squire slashing with his sword a wooden human sized doll.

Eddard pitied the doll. If it had been human it would have died a thousand times over. The squire had not heard Ned approach so when he sifted, the squire awkwardly turned around; the bundle that held his sister's hair in place fell to the dirt.

Ned gawked at her, while Lyanna regarded him with caution. She was breathing heavily and sweat was running down her brows. Dressed in men clothes she looked very much a young squire from a distance yet her ladylike facial features and shape suggested otherwise.

When she threw him a sword, Ned only had a few seconds to catch it before Lyanna attacked him with her own. Once again he gazed at her, confused.

"Fight me" she demanded and in her eyes there was fury, the blood of the wolf running hot within.

Ned did nothing, until Lyanna attacked him first with a fierceness he had not thought her capable off. He rose his sword to defend himself and despite all of it, he had to admit his sister was able to wield a sword very skilfully. Yet, it was immediately evident that she had not had enough practice. There were positions unknown to her, her legs often dangling beneath her as she tried to find her balance. As she threw her sword at him, the noise of steel upon steel ringing in the yard, Ned slid beneath her and held her wrist tightly causing her to drop the sword.

He released his hold and Lyanna freed herself immediately, going to grab the sword again, but Ned's own sword against her throat stopped her.

"Why are you here at such an hour, Lya?" he demanded, not unkindly.

She pushed her dark brown hair back, her ice grey eyes sparkling. "You are such a fool, Ned. Such a fool"

Eddard let the sword fall to the ground. He did not understand what she meant even though he had long left his previous semi-drunken state.

At his glance she sighed. "You told father to wed me to Robert Baratheon"

"I did not" he instantly replied and Lyanna rose an eyebrow. "It was his idea though he did ask for my opinion"

"Then why did you lie to him?" his sister demanded.

"I did not" Eddard replied coolly but she shook her head.

"Father came to tell me… He warned me to behave ladylike and wear my best dress. Won't it be fun if I went to the tourney in Harenhall dressed like this? Do you think my betrothed would approve? Surely that would charm him" she said in irony.

"You do not know Robert" Ned protested.

Lyanna raised her eyebrows again. "And you do? The man will never keep to one bed, Ned"

"He will" Ned said with certainty.

Lyanna sighed exasperated and started dragging a stone upon the sword she was holding to strengthen it. "I hear he has a bastard daughter in the Vale of Arryn. And another bastard in Storm's End. Maybe he has more, only he does not know it himself"

Ned went to sit next to his sister. He almost put an arm around her but decided against it. "Brandon has taken the maidenhead of more than one lady, if I have heard correctly, yet you love him no less"

"Lady Barbrey?" Lyanna inferred yet she knew the answer already. "Just because Brandon did it, does that make Robert all the more lovable to me, you think? Where is the honour in that, Ned? Would you have done it?"

Ned went to reply, yet he could not find the words.

 _No, I would not have done it,_ he thought to himself. _Now, or ever._

"What Robert did before the betrothal is insignificant. Robert will change. He will love you, I know it. He would never dishonour you"

Lyanna dropped her sword to the ground with a loud clank and kneeled near a bush Ned had not seen before. On the bush grew wild, winter roses. Their colour was blue, not red as the ones that grew in King's Landing. Her nose brushed one such rose and she smiled, the scent reaching Ned's nostrils as well. It was a sweet yet wild aroma.

"Winter Roses… Have you seen anything so beautiful? Their scent is truly mesmerising, do you not think? We are in a yard with barely any soil or grass and yet they have managed to grow, despite everything. It is in their nature"

For a moment she smiled, reminding Ned that she was still a lady, a beautiful lady who loved flowers. The moment was soon lost, however, and she turned to him with the saddest smile upon her face.

"Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature"


	7. Chapter 7

**Riverrun, Late 281 AC**

 **Catelyn**

"Lysa!" she screamed excited and run towards the Gates of Riverrun, looking for her younger sister.

She could hear horses coming and the voices of people was becoming louder.

 _Where is she_ , Catelyn wondered and knowing that her father's bannermen would soon arrive she began to panic.

Hoping that she had enough time, she abruptly turned around and headed towards her chambers, hoping that she would find her sister there, since her own establishments where next to Lysa's.

Disappointed and running out of time, she headed back to the Gates. On her way there, she came upon Petyr, her father's ward, walking down the corridor.

"Petyr, come!" she shouted to him and before he had time to protest she grabbed his arrm and started running with him down the corridors.

Her anxiety of the upcoming visitors soon turned into a giggle and Petyr laughed with her as well. He had the strangest laugh and his grey-green eyes sparkled every time he looked into her own. By the time they reached the Gates, they were both out of breath and with big smiles upon their faces.

"Cat, your hair…" Petyr said gently, pointing at her mane of black-auburn curls.

Worried that it may have been misplaced during her run, she awkwardly tried to reach for it and fix it, but Petyr had climbed into his tiptoes – he was shorter than her – and put the stray strands back into place.

"Thank you" she said and he nodded, pleased with himself.

Catelyn could not have been more worried. Both the Brackens and the Blackwoods were arriving at the same time, and they were known for harbouring a grudge for each other. To start a feud right here, in Riverrun, would be like starting a war and Catelyn had no wish to participate in any such event.

Even though she had initially gone looking for Lysa, since she was Lord Hoster Tully's youngest daughter, she was much happier with Petyr about. He had a way of turning peoples' minds around and with him she felt safer.

Yet, a potential fight between Blackwoods and Brackens was the least of her worries. Her father had told her, only the previous night, of a very important message he was expecting concerning her future. Maester Vyman had advised her father on who was best to betroth his daughters to and the letters had been sent to both Lannisters and Starks. Her father had yet to confirm which house was for which daughter and indeed, which son.

When the knock on the Gates sounded and one of the Guards announced that Blackwoods, Brackens and a messenger had arrived, Catelyn rose into her tiptoes.

"Open the Gates!" she commanded with a voice that befitted the Lady of House Tully and soon to be of House Lannister or Stark.

The guards followed her command and soon the doors had opened up, to reveal a hundred or so horses. Half were waving a banner of a red horse on its back, engulfed in a triangular shape of yellow and then engulfed in a colour of dark brown.

 _House Bracken,_ Catelyn thought and smiled gently.

The other house's banner was one which had often caused her nightmares. It was a white weirwood tree and was surrounded by a dark red colour and ten dark ravens. House Blackwood.

Even so, Catelyn stepped forward with Petyr at her heels and smiled to both the houses. Recognising Lord Bracken, she decided to greet him first. Then, realising it might come off as an insult she opted for another option.

"Lord Bracken, Lord Blackwood. It is an honour to meet you. I am Catelyn, elder daughter of house Tully, and I offer the meat and mead of my house for however long you need to stay" she said politely, reciting the words her Septa had taught her.

The Blackwood's faces suddenly became sour and she hoped that they had not been insulted since she mentioned their names second.

"Aye. And where is your Lord Father? Sending off his daughter and this little weasel at her side to greet us at the Gates…" a man, who Catelyn guessed was Lord Blackwood, spoke.

Her heart clutched in her chest, afraid she had once again insulted them. This was dangerous ground. She had to tread carefully. Cat went to speak, but Petyr walked in front of her and gave the Lord a sly smile.

"This weasel is called Petyr Baelish. I am Lord Hoster's ward, Lord Brynden. I do so apologise if my presence has caused you such discomfort. It is true that I possess not the most comely of faces. However, Lord Hoster's daughter beauty is renowned in all of King's Landing. Knights sing songs of her beauty and honour… The Lord of Riverrun thought it would be best if a beautiful sight welcomed you upon your arrival rather than his own sour face" Petyr said.

For a second Cat held her breath. How could have Petyr, or Littlefinger as Lysa called him, have acted so boldly? How could she have confused the son for the father? Shame clouded her features but Brynden Blackwood cracked a smile which was soon followed by Jonos Bracken's thunderous laugh.

"Yes, Lady Cat. I see you have become quite beautiful in these last years…" Lord Bracken started, eyeing her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable, but a glare from Lady Bracken made him clear his throat and look away.

"Lord Jonos Bracken, Lady Bracken, Barbara, Jayne, Catelyn, Bess, Alyssane. Lord Tytos Blackwood, Lord Bryndon, Lucas, Hoster, Edmun, Alyn, Bethany and Robert. It is an honour to greet you all here, at Riverrun. Come, my Lords and Ladies. If it pleases you, Petyr and I will escort you to your chambers. Your servants, squires and knights are most welcome. A splendid feast is to be held tonight in preparation for the tourney on the morrow" Catelyn said, pleased that she had remembered all the family names.

There were some Blackwoods and Brackens that she did not recognise, but instead of calling them by their wrong name she opted not to call them at all. While they were walking towards the chambers where her father's bannermen were to be placed she kneeled to Petyr's side.

"Who is the Bracken boy walking next to Lord Jonos? I know him not" she whispered in his ear.

He smiled quizzically at her. "It is understandable. He is Lord Jono's bastard. Lady Bracken is not happy with him, yet the Lord of Bracken goes against his wife's wishes and brings him to feasts and important meetings and all. Why that is…"

A messenger came to Catelyn's side. He was about Petyr's size and age.

"My Lady" he said, almost bowing. "I have a message from Winterfel and Casterly Rock for Lost Hoster"

Cat's heart started beating fast inside her chest, once again. Petyr watched her expression change and held her hand tightly, helping her keep her balance. Suddenly she heard her father's booming voice, followed by the Blackfish's quieter one – he was her father's younger brother and her beloved uncle - and her hand slipped away from Petyr's grasp and she straightened up, smiling to them both gently.

Her Lord Father greeted his guests, sharing japes and jokes with Lord Jonos while offering Lord Tytos the finest of his wines. Tomorrow, a small tourney was to be held for her father's bannermen as a remembrance day of his Lady Wife, Minisa Tully, who had perished upon giving birth to her younger brother, Edmure.

If truth be told, the tourney had been Lysa's and Petyr's idea since they had always loved everything concerning knights. Young Edmure, eager as he was to follow along, had also begged for a tourney and realising the importance of what the children were saying, Lord Hoster had given in. Maester's Vyman voice must have surely aided their plan as he had a tender spot for small Edmure.

The prizes for the tourney had yet to be announced, but she had heard the servant girls gossiping that the prize would be Lord Hoster's daughters, something she had found most appalling. It was one thing for her father to promise her hand to one of the noble houses and another for her hand to be won over a tourney. No doubt, her sister Lysa, would have thought this notion most gallant, but to Cat, it was the most uncertain of notions. It meant that whoever participated in the tourney would have a chance in this, be it the lowest of the low or the most noble of born. Not only this, but winning in a tourney told Cat nothing about the man's character, only that he was good at fighting with swords.

Deep into her thoughts, she did not realise how soon she had led both Brackens and Blackwoods to their chambers and was left to follow at her father's and uncle's footsteps. Petyr was following them close behind and before long her sister, Lysa, and young Edmure appeared, looking red faced and excited, as if they were hiding a secret. Young Edmure whispered something in Petyr's ear and the boy looked strangely happy with whatever information her young brother had shared with him.

Nevertheless when they reached the Hall, Lord Hoster paused and eyed Petyr, Edmure and Lysa.

"I shall need to have a word with Cat" he said in his most lord like of voices.

Lysa and Edmure were quick to leave the hall, no doubt after something. However, Petyr lingered for a few seconds even when servants and guards had exited the Great Hall.

"You too, Petyr" Lord Tully added eyeing the boy. When the Blackfish made an attempt to leave as well, Lord Hoster motioned for him to stay.

Her father sighed and sited himself at the big wooden chair in the middle of the room. Without guards, children, maids and servants, the Hall of Riverrun suddenly looked empty. "Come here, Cat. Next to me. Brynden, you too"

Cat did as she was bid and sat next to her father, followed by her uncle.

"A message arrived. It appears we have an answer from Winterfell" her father said.

Catelyn swallowed. An answer, yes. But an answer for whom? Brynden's Tully deep blue eyes sparkled with interest.

"You are to be wed to Brandon Stark. Master Vyman has told me of how brave, clever and bright the young man is. It is said he is also comely, very tall and handsome. Last, but not least, he is heir to Winterfell which would make you Lady of Winterfell" her father said.

 _Lady of Winterfell. Lady of Stark_ , Catelyn thought tasting the words in her mind.

Winterfell was up north, near the Wall. It was said that snow covered the grounds even in the middle of the summer and you needed a thousand blankets to warm yourself in the winter. The Starks were said to have the blood of wolves running through their veins. There was also ice in their blood, making them cold and hard with piercing and terrifying glares.

Cat swallowed. If truth be told she would have much rather been betrothed to Jamie Lannister. He was handsome, tall and muscular, comely with his mane of blonde hair and green eyes. He was near Riverrun as well. She would have been closer to her family.

"What of the Lannisters?" she wondered idly.

Her father pressed his lips together tightly. "Lord Tywin has refused the offer. He even suggested marrying Lysa to little Tyrion, the grotesque half man of a son. What an insult! The tourney is the next few days is as good excuse as any to find a good husband for your sister amongst my bannermen. It will strengthen our bonds… "

"Or severe them all together if it is Bracken or Blackwood" Brynden Tully added.

Catelyn felt sorry for her sister. It would have been a great honour to be wife to Jamie Lannister.

"Lord Bracken only has a bastard son. If anything Lysa should be wed to the eldest son of Blackwood. Surely the Lord of Bracken cannot be insulted with such a notion" Cat said but did so because she was afraid more of the Blackwood's wrath compared to the Bracken's.

"Clever Cat" her father said with a smile playing at the edges of his lips. "You will make a splendid Lady of Stark. Brandon will be lucky to have you"

He drunk a sip of red wine and then continued. "Sweet Arbor. Splendid beverage! Brandon is to arrive tomorrow with his Lord Father. The rest of the Stark family is heading to the tourney of Harrenhall. Even though your mother's family insisted, I am afraid that heading there, will not be a possibility. Our tourney will have finished before Harrenhall but still…"

He smiled some more after that, laughing with the Blackfish and then bid her good bye. All the while Cat nodded and smiled back. That was her duty, what else could she have done? Yet, she did not fail to notice that not once had her father asked her if she accepted the marriage proposal. It was almost as if he demanded it of her.

"I thank you Lord Father for arranging such a splendid match for me. May I return to my chambers?" Cat asked him.

Family. Duty. Honour.

Those were the words of her House and she was going to follow them.

 **A/N: I have now changed some of the starting chapters since certain events happened at slightly different dates. Next chapter should be posted within this weekend. Fell free to leave a review and tell me what you think of the story so far and if there is anything amiss.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Harenhall, Late 281 AC.**

 **Ned**

The music was playing loudly in his ears. Great men were sited all around him. Gerold Hightower with his white hair and purple eyes so similar to the features of Arthur Dayne that some may have thought them brothers. If truth be told, they were brothers, brothers of the Kings guard, the order that protected the King with their life. Oswell Whent was with them as well; he was the brother of Walter Whent, heir to Harenhall and the one organising the tourney. The gifts of the tourney were lavish. Money, titles, lands….

Benjen had been jumping up and down his sit at the mention of titles, and Lyanna had had to put a restraining arm on his shoulders to calm him down.

At last, Ned spotted at the back, Jamie Lannister. He was wearing the crimson red and gold of his house but when King Aerys signaled, dead silence fell in the great room and the young knight walked forward, in front of the king.

Arthur Dayne stepped forward and unsheathed his sword. For a second, he heard young Benjen holding his breath, but the Sword of the Morning had simply given Jamie Lannister, the honour of becoming a member of the Kinsguard. Shouts were heard from throughout the room.

"He is the youngest knight to have served in the Kingsguard" Robert whispered in his ear, while clapping. He was regarding him curiously, while, already in his fifth cup of wine and ale.

Ned studied the newest member of the Kingsguard yet he saw nothing special about him. He was tall, very handsome and had a mane of blond hair that reached his shoulders. Maybe he was indeed an exceptionally good fighter. He ought to tell Benjen that. His brother longed to be a knight but everyone was saying that he was still too young. He had begged to participate in the tourney as well yet Ned had tried to explain to him that only older men in Brandon's age were allowed to do so.

When the clapping finished, Ned saw the Lord of Casterly Rock, Jaime's father, walking out of the Hall, fuming. As soon as the clapping was done a young, slender girl with long, blonde hair approached the knight and hugged him. Ned squinted his eyes because apart from the fact that she was female there was barely any other difference between them.

"They are twins" his brother Benjen said for him, pointing at the couple.

Lyanna smiled. "Indeed. Close twins"

The way she said it made Ned wonder if there was a hidden meaning behind it.

Despite all her threats of wearing chainmail and appearing in Harrenhal like a knight, Lyanna had done the opposite. She was wearing a long flowing white-grey gown with embedded heads of wolves and a wolf fur covering her naked shoulders. Her shiny, dark, long hair had been brushed and it shone under the deem lightening of the candles in the Hall. Half of it was braided and the other half flew carelessly to her shoulders and her lower, naked back.

She looked lovely and so like a Lady. His sister was behaving as such as well. Lyanna was only laughing on que with everyone else, small laughs, she was eating small bites of food, sipping wine ever so graciously…

Ned had to wonder whether she was going to surprise them soon, though this did not seem likely. His father, Rickard Stark had bid him to take good care of her and prohibit her from acting foolishly. He and Brandon had visited Riverrun to finalise the Tully-Stark betrothal while Ned was to oversee the Stark-Baratheon betrothal.

So far, everything was going according to plan and his friend could not take his eyes from his sister. He had made quite a few attempts of speaking to her, mostly asking her questions concerning the weather, or a song she had heard, or whether she liked jewels and what type of jewels. Lyanna had answered each one of his questions with courtesy and asked him no more.

When at last Ned had started another conversation, Robert leaned forward.

"When I was told that I was to marry Ned's sister, I was afraid she was going to look like him. Long face, no humour and ice running through her veins instead of blood. Yet, my expectations have been surpassed. You are the loveliest woman in all of the Seven Kingdoms"

Lyanna regarded him carefully and Ned sensed a trap. He was not insulted by his friend's words. He knew he was not as handsome or comely as his elder brother or even Robert Baratheon, yet he was certain that at some point he would have a good marriage with a good woman. Who that would be remained to be seen.

"Oh? You must have seen a lot of women then to say this" his sister said pleasantly, yet Ned prayed she would not mention his bastards.

Robert cleared his throat, seeming at a loss of words. "I have seen, yes. You are as lovely as the rising sun"

His comment made Lyanna look bored. She turned her spoon to the other side. "I thank you, good Sir. Tell me, then. If I am the fair maiden then you must be the brave knight. Tell me of the wars you have fought, the battles?"

Ned galped. She was taunting him, yet Robert did not realise. "I have yet to participate in any wars, which most think is a good thing. If it is my strength and power you want me to prove, however, my fair maiden, I shall start wars for you"

Lyanna raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. The five or more cups of wine must have gotten to Robert's head.

"Interesting. No doubt you must be a great warrior, a great swordman"

Robert went to reply but Ned replied instead. "The Lord of Storm's End prefers to use a battle axe, instead. He channels his power and ferocity better through this chosen weapon"

"A bull has ferocity as well. To wield a sword requires grace, balance…" Lyanna added.

Robert laughed and clapped Ned on the shoulder. "Eddard, you had not told me your sister knew so much of swords and fighting"

"Oh, yes she does!" Benjen said excited before Ned had time to shut him up. His sister smiled gently but Robert was laughing hysterically.

"A woman? With a sword? Surely as acting. In a real battlefield, women would stand no chance, my lady. It is better to let us, men, do the job. We are born to fight and kill men for sport" he said and Ned pressed his lips together.

He feared for the worst, yet Lyanna remained calm. "What would you say if I asked you to train me, then? Even as acting? Would that not be fun just out of curiosity to play with swords?"

"Swords are not for playing. Swords are dangerous" Robert said, his brown creased.

"Yet boys first learn how to wield a sword by picking a wooden sword, would you not agree?" Lyanna asked.

Robert drunk another cup of wine "They are boys"

"Children" Lyanna intersected.

"If you say so, my Lady" he finally said, giving in.

For a time there was silence apart from Benjen who kept pointing at men around the room and asking either Robert or Ned who they were.

"Where is the Prince?" Benjen suddenly asked out loud and Ned had to squint his eyes but he could not see him.

"The Prince is said to have taken an early night. His wife has just given him an heir and he spends most nights with her. Childbirth has left her weak, though, she did give him a son, proving somewhat useful"

Ned could feel Lyanna's anger flaring up as she held a knife tightly in her hands. He had to gently press both of her hands down, though she still would not release the instrument. Robert seemed to pay no mind to that.

"And do you have many sons, my Lord?" his sister asked in her sweetest and kindest voice.

Robert blinked. "No trueborn heirs. I am not married. Not yet"

He smiled to her at that and his sister gave him a weak smile in response. "What about other sons? Or children? Surely you have tested the waters, like a Captain first sails a ship in a stormy sea. My brother, Bran, has had the pleasure of knowing many women. It is quite admirable"

Robert cleared his throat. "I have known women, if that is what you ask. They come willingly to me. I know much and more when it comes to pleasuring the ladies"

Ned turned a bright shade of red while his brother's jaw dropped to the floor.

His sister took a deep breath. "That, at least is good to know"

The irony was plain in her tone, yet Ned hoped Robert would not see it. He did not. His friend had passed the stage of being merely drunk.

"Though if we are to get married I would like to think that you would pleasure only me" Lyanna said and Ned wished he could cover his ears with wax and not hear such talk.

It was obvious that Lyanna was toying with Robert but he so wished he had not been present in their conversation.

"To be sure, my Lady. Why would I look at any other women when I have the star in front of me?" he asked her.

His sister laughed. "Even stars fall eventually. Surely at some point I shall grow old, my breasts will fall, my hair will turn grey…"

"I would love…. You…" Robert said in a slurred tone.

When the feast came to an end, Ned escorted Robert to his room. His friend was drunk though he was still able to walk and he had not puked.

"I love her, Ned" he whispered.

Ned said nothing to that, only wished his friend goodnight and then returned to the gigantic tents that had been given to him and the rest of the Starks. There were tents for Rickard and Brandon as well, though, at the moment, they were unoccupied. They were to arrive in the next two days. When Ned entered his tent, he found Lyanna pacing up and down.

She had exchanged her lovely gown for her usual breeches and linen shirt, her hair in a ponytail. She was holding a wooden stick, not even a proper sword and she was attacking his bed. When one of her strong blows broke the right wooden hand side of the bed, she turned around and smiled to him.

"That's for telling our Father that Robert was an honourable man" she said and then with another movement hit Ned in the ribs until he fell to the ground.

Lyanna was holding the edge of the stick to this chin. "And that is for betrothing me to a drunken fool"

And with this, she stormed back to her own establishments. As Eddard watched his sister leave, he finally came to terms with the fact that he had made a terrible mistake, one which he would regret for the rest of his life.


	9. Chapter 9

**Riverrun. Late 281 AC**

 **Catelyn**

Come night time, Cat had worn her favourite gown, one with colours of red and blue, the colours of her house. Her house already had red in it, the same colour as House Lannister. The Stark colours were white and grey; they did not match red and blue.

The gown was dark blue for the most part, but her sleeves opened up to reveal a deep red colour and so did her waist. Her auburn hair had been brushed until it shone and her handmaids had decorated it with flowers from their garden, jasmine and lilies. Her sister, Lysa, looked just as splendid as her, if not shorter than her. Lysa was younger than her and as of yet she had not acquired a womanly body. She had flowered, but she still lacked the bosom that Catelyn displayed at the moment. Her handmaids had made her wear a corset and had tightened the strings so hard, she was afraid she was going to burst at any moment now.

When she exited her chamber she saw Edmure also dressed in blue and red running down the corridor after someone, no doubt Lysa. Catelyn smiled after them. In her mind they were still children, but that was the time when she must behave like a proper lady. She would have felt a lot better if her handmaids had been with her at that moment, or if Lysa and Edmure had waited for her instead of running off. She dreaded entering into the Hall by herself, though she was sure that one of her father's banner men, or one of the guards would give her his arm to hold upon her entry.

Cat sighed and touched her hair trying to make sure it was still in place. When she passed one of the mirrors, the woman that looked back at her was a stranger. Her hair was smooth, curling at the bottom, with striking dark blue eyes, dark eyelashes and red lips, a result of some beetroot juice her handmaids had insisted on her wearing. They had pinched her cheeks as well to bring colour to her them, though her high heart rate and anxiety had already accomplished this job.

She only hoped that she did not look like a beetroot herself and she touched her face once again, worried. Catelyn walked through the gardens by herself. Night time had arrived and she was beginning to feel anxious, the flattering of bats in her stomach. She was approaching Riverrun's Godswood, Blackwood's sigil - the one that always terrified her - when she paused, her heart beating inside her chest loudly.

Suddenly, a hand clasped her mouth and she went to scream, but Petyr appeared from the darkness his finger in front of his lips, motioning for her to be quiet. She nodded, the bats in her stomach pausing their energetic wing flapping.

"Petyr!" she exclaimed quietly and smiled to him. "You scared me!"

The boy smiled back to her. "That was the least of my intentions, my Lady. How lovely you look tonight"

Cat laughed. "Are you sure I don't look like a beetroot? Maya insisted on me wearing beetroot juice"

"It was a fair choice. No doubt your betrothed will be pleased" the boy said and eyed her with a look she did not understand.

How did he know?

"You shouldn't eavesdrop!" she said almost insulted and she felt herself turning into a deeper shade of red.

The boy appeared hurt. "I would have liked to hear it from your lips and not your father's. Do you not regard me highly enough to share such knowledge with me?"

"My father arranged it and told of it to me, only today. It has yet to be announced and you would do well to keep your lips closed" she said in irritation.

Petyr hmphed and looked on the ground. "And there I thought the tourney was for your hand… How easy it would have made things!"

"Easy?" Catelyn wondered.

The boy looked at her quizzically. "Don't you remember sweet Cat. We were eight years old yet you promised you would marry me once we grew older…"

"I was eight!" she began.

"That did not stop you from kissing me"

"You kissed me!" she said in return.

Petyr smiled again. "Then, yes. Now, no"

Without a second warning his lips crushed onto her own. Catelyn froze, unsure as to how to proceed. He was gentle, Cat realised, yet there was a fierceness in him and soon enough he was holding her waist and brushing his fingertips along her spine. His touches woke something deep inside her.

Catelyn responded and opened her mouth, savouring the feeling. She stayed locked into place and when she heard a distant noise, she pushed Petyr away from her. Cat looked on the ground, embarrassed, yet he was looking at her knowingly.

"I would have fought for your honour in the tourney, Cat. I would have crowned you Queen of Love and Beauty and would have demanded your father for your hand"

"Don't be ridiculous. You are not that good of a swordsman. Besides, you are small. The other men would crush you" she said and started walking away from him, towards the Hall.

Petyr almost run after her, looking hurt. "I would have won! Who knows, I may still take part and ask such a demand of your father"

That made Catelyn abruptly stop. "You wouldn't dare! I am betrothed to Brandon Stark. I intend to marry him and this is the end of it"

He gave her a knowing smile. "This did not stop you from kissing me before"

"It was a mistake. You will do well to forget it" she said and without waiting for a response she entered the Hall by herself.

Music rung in her ears and she tried to drown Petyr's voice and her thoughts about him. She was to be Lady of Winterfell. Such thoughts had no place in her mind. She sited herself on the table below her father's, opposite to Lysa and next to Edmure. Next came Petyr but before he managed to sit next to her, Brynden Blackwood had taken his place. The boy looked angry for just one second before his expression changed and he smiled politely. He sat next to Lysa and opposite Cat. Some Bracken children came to join their table and Cat smiled politely to all of them trying very hard to ignore Petyr's looks.

She noticed how Lysa was trying very hard to get the boy's attention but she was failing miserably. Cat wished Petyr would at least pay some attention to her sister. Lysa was ever so fond of Petyr and held him in such a high esteem. Like an elder brother, though he was her idol as well.

"Lady Catelyn. I am to participate in the tourney tomorrow. Would you be kind enough to honour me with your favour?" Harry Rivers asked, the bastard of House Bracken.

Brynden snickered. "You are only a Bastard. If Catelyn should give her favour to anyone that would be me. Would you, my fair Lady?"

Suddenly, Cat felt like her corset was too tight. "Dear Sirs, I am deeply sorry but I have promised to give my favour to another"

To whom she did not know, but she would find someone. Someone other than Blackwood and Bracken or Rivers.

"Littlefinger…" Lysa complained trying to get the boy's attention, using his nickname.

This seemed to catch Brynden's attention. "Littlefinger?"

Catelyn filled her cup with wine and then, when Edmure complained, gave a little to him as well. Petyr wordlessly passed his cup to herl and she eyed him suspiciously. He only smiled in return while Catelyn filled his cup.

Brynden filled his own cup as well and downed it in two gulps, smiling widely. "Tell us, then. How little is your finger?"

Harry Rivers and some of his half-sisters suddenly started hooting. Another Blackwood boy joined in, while her brother, Edmure, was looking as them quizzically.

Petyr pressed his lips in a tight line and drunk from his cup. He, then, smiled to them. "If you had paid more mind to your History lessons you might have known of an area called the Fingers in the Eyrie. My Father is Lord of the Fingers, yet despite them being prosperous they are a small land. Hence where my nickname originates from"

His words seemed to have insulted Brynden who rose into the air, his expression angry. Catelyn could sense a fight approaching and she went to stop it, but Lysa, had already risen from her sit.

"You are a big man, yet you don't scare me! You should go fight with someone of the same size as you" she said in return.

No doubt, Lysa had tried to stand up for Petyr, though her words seemed to have done nothing other than darken his mood. Petyr drank more wine while Brynden and his brothers laughed.

"You are a lively one, aren't you? Surely you would fight me if I asked you!"

"Of course I would" Lysa replied, irritated and gazed at Petyr, but he was once again ignoring her.

Suddenly, Brynden seemed to remember himself and stopped laughing and cleared his throat. "No, my Lady. You need not worry yourself with fights. You should have men protecting you"

Catelyn turned around to see Tytos Blackwood eyeing his son. She smiled to herself and before long, a servant girl brought her another cup of wine and she drunk the beverage, slowly.

The feast had no less than ten courses. They started off with thick broth made with barley, peas, carrots and goose fat to thicken it. Then, they were served green salad leaves dressed in a honey lemon sauce and covered with goat's cheese and dried grapes. Next came the pies, no less than three different ones; steak and ale, leek and pig, duck and honeyed carrots. They also had roasted suckling pig, with an apple in its mouth. When the dish was served, the juices were still sizzling. Next came the lamb chops, slow cooked in herbs and red wine. They finished their meal with a selection of figs, apricots, strawberries and sweet succulent dates. The servants also served them honeyed thick puffed milk thickened with rice and flavoured with cinnamon and also her favourite lemon pies.

Catelyn only managed to eat until the third dish was served before she was full, yet she ate one small lemon pie when Petyr offered it to her.

"I asked the Cooks to make this plate especially for you. I know how fond you are of them" he said and once again Catelyn wanted to look away and make him stop looking her in that knowing way of his.

It was making her feel beyond uncomfortable.

Finally, the servants cleared the plates and music started playing in the background. Lord Bracken had brought a singer with him and his lovely voice was making maids weep.

Lord Hoster seemed to be in bright spirits and he was laughing at his banner men's jests, once again. One of Tytos Blackwood's daughter headed to the dancefloor with a certain Gilian Rivers, something her father did not seem to approve, yet she ignored his look. Soon, more couples came to join them in the dancefloor and Brynden eyed her for a long time, before he had the courage to ask her to the dancefloor.

"My Lady Catelyn since you have promised your favour to another it would only be right to honour me with a dance" he said and offered his hand.

Having no other option and wanting desperately to escape Petyr's looks, Catelyn took Brynden's arm as he led her to the dancefloor. The music was a jolly song, the Bear and the Maiden Fair and soon Cat found herself swaying with the music and laughing, no doubt the red wine getting to her spirits.

She did not know how, but before long she was dancing with Lucas Blackwood, Lord Tytos' second son and then she danced with Harry Rivers, who was an exceptionally funny man. When the song ended and another started, she found herself dancing with Petyr. Her heart skipped a beat, as the boy's gaze never left hers and she tried to look away.

She saw Lysa dancing with Brynden Blackwood, looking utterly bored, yet the boy seemed to have been completely infatuated with her. Even little Edmure was dancing with Alysanne Bracken, the youngest daughter of Lord Bracken.

Despite herself, Cat was having a good time. And Petyr… He was behaving himself. When the song came to an end, Catelyn went to dance with another of her father's banner men, yet Petyr grabbed her waist and led her to the dancefloor before she had time to do so. This dance was a slower one and Petyr's expert fingers seemed to trace her skin in just the right amount.

Cat shivered. The boy reached his tiptoes, bringing his lips closer to hers. She turned the other way.

"Not here, nor now, nor ever. I am to marry Brandon Stark, you ought to remember this" she whispered to him, gently but firmly.

Petyr looked hurt. "Brandon Stark, you say? Yes. I have heard rumours about him. Yet he will never love you as much as I"

That spiked Cat's interest. "Rumours?"

"Oh, yes. He has taken the maidenhead of more than one Lady. Would you like to know? That Stark future husband of yours will dishonour you, before the year has gone past"

"Lies!" Cat whispered back to him.

Petyr grabbed her waist and brought her closer to him with the beat of the song. "It is true. When he arrives tomorrow you should ask him yourself. He will never love you. He will never know you. I love you more fiercely than a man has ever loved a woman"

Cat said nothing to this.

"Your favour for the tourney has been promised to someone. You should give it to me, in order not to strike a Blackwood-Bracken feud" he said gently.

"It has been promised to another" Catelyn said.

Petyr laughed, sensing her lie. "So you keep saying"

When the song came to an end, Catelyn almost run back to her sit on the table. Petyr run after her, though Lysa had grabbed his arm and had dragged him back to the dancefloor. Cat was glad for that. Her head was pounding and she could not make sense of her feelings.

Family. Duty. Honour.

When a servant girl offered her more wine she gently declined. Harry Rivers went to ask for another dance, yet she feinted tiredness. She watched as Petyr danced with Lysa, all the while keeping his eyes on her. And then, when Brynden asked Lysa to dance with him again, Petyr danced with one of Bracken's daughters, laughing at her. Cat could feel the sparks of jealously clawing at her chest, like the furious bats of bats' wings.

She pushed her chair back and wondered whether it would be lady-like to excuse herself and pretend she was coming down with an illness. Yet, Petyr was beside her once again, offering his arm. Cat should have said no but when the music started playing, she found herself again in Petyr's arms.

"I shall never love another" he suddenly whispered in her ear, in the turn of the dance.

"How quick you are to make such love declarations. Only a minute ago I saw you dancing with Lysa, Jayne and Barbara" she said and her voice trembled, something she regretted.

"You are jealous… But no, they mean nothing to me. Lysa is like a sister to me. I have eyes only for you"

"And you are like a brother to me. Would that your feelings were like this for Lysa, instead. Maybe you should go after her" Cat suggested.

"Would that make you happy?" Petyr asked, studying her carefully.

At Cat's expression, he smiled. "No, that would make you angry"

At the end of the song, Catelyn had left the dancefloor. She was about to leave the Hall itself, but suddenly the doors burst open. A man walked forth, dressed in mail plate, in colours of grey and white. He was tall, taller than most men in the room and had long dark brown hair flowing down his shoulders. His jaws were squared and his eyes sparkled a grey-blue colour. The outline of muscles was evident despite all of his clothing. Another five men were at his heels, knights, and another, older man, with grey flowing hair reaching his shoulders.

Cat stared at him and felt her heart beat quicken. The man was handsome and he looked strong and fearless. Above him, the banner of a dark grey direwolf stood and Cat instantly knew who this was.

"Brandon and Rickard Stark! We were awaiting you on the morrow. Come, join the feast!" Lord Hoster Tully said in an animated tone of voice and the man walked forth, the gazes of all in the room on him.

"It is an honour, Lord Tully" the man replied.

Before long, Brandon and Rickard were sited on the right hand side of her father and they were discussing animatedly between themselves. Brandon stayed quite for most of it and then, finally, while Cat gulped down a cup of wine, her father rose and cleared his throat.

"It is my pleasure to announce the betrothal of my eldest daughter, Catelyn Tully, to Brandon Stark, eldest son of Rickard Stark and heir to Winterfell"

Claps sounded from around the Hall, though most of her father's banner men seemed displeased since they were expecting Cat to marry one of their sons. Indeed, soon enough, Brynden Blackwood walked forth and knelt on the ground.

"My Lord, it would be a great pleasure to have the hand of your youngest daughter, Lysa" he said.

Rickard smiled and seemed to consider this notion, but then, Harry Rivers and his father walked forth and started talking amongst themselves, in a heated fashion. Her father was desperately trying to calm the waters, but to no prevail. At last, he announced that the Feast had come to an end and waiters came to show the Starks to their chambers while Lord Tully took Blackwood and Bracken to the side to discuss something.

The rest of her father's banner men exited the Hall as well. Catelyn wanted to run after Brandon and introduce herself, yet she had lost her chance. No doubt, her father had pointed her out to Brandon and he must have been pleased with her, otherwise he would have never conceded to the marriage, but still… She wanted to actually talk to him. When the young lord of Stark exited the Great Hall of Riverrun his eyes found Catelyn's and she held her breath as he regarded her curiously. Yet, he stayed silent and followed his father's footsteps.


	10. Chapter 10

**Harenhall, Late 281 AC.**

 **Ned**

When the next day came, Ned woke to the ringing sound of steel upon steel, no doubt the knights practising for the upcoming tournament. What he did not expect to find, was his sister practising with a proper sword on a dummy; Benjen jumping excitedly up and down as she slashed and cut at the make-shift human.

When she saw him approaching she smiled as if yesterday's event had never happened. "Do you like my new sword, brother? It is most fitting is it not? Light, yet strong… I will slash at my enemies until they are dead!"

Ned sighed. "You have no enemies, Lya"

The girl cocked an eyebrow. "Do I not? Whoever my opponent is in the tourney, will surely, at that moment in time, be my enemy"

Ned gawked at her. "You cannot think to participate! You are a girl! They will know. They will demand to see proof… You have no armour…"

Lyanna and Benjen were laughing. "I have brought mail plates, shields and weapons with me and Brandon is carrying some extra weapons himself though he doesn't know it. Rest assured though, brother. I shall not participate in the tourney. I was only jesting"

She winked at him and Ned was not sure what to make of it.

"How is my betrothed this most splendid of mornings?" she asked casually while walking amongst the many tents that had been set up around Harenhall to house Lords, Ladies, knights, squires, Guards, maids, servants, cooks, armorers and merchants. There was enough space for the Starks as well in Harenhall though after Lyanna's and Benjen's protests he had opted for the choice of tents instead of rooms.

"He is still in bed" Ned admitted and Lya hmphed.

As they passed a merchant selling swords, crossbows and morning stars, Lya paused, eyeing the weapons hungrily. On his right hand side there was also a stall with jewellery and pins.

A group of girls were standing there, examining them and giggling to themselves. They were wearing flowing silks of various colours, their shoulders bare and their hair down, falling in waves to their waists. One of the girls went to grab at a necklace but then almost feinted, the movement requiring too much of her energy.

Ned rushed to her side but he wasn't the only one. Jamie Lannister, the knight who had taken his vows and pledged himself to the Kingsguard only the previous night, had caught the girl's arm.

"Be careful, my Princess. Our King and our Prince would never forgive me if in my first day of duty I let the Princess fall to the ground" he said in a knowing manner.

 _Princess Elia Martell_ , Ned realised and swallowed as he watched the girls walking away from him.

"Close your mouth, Stark. Saliva is dripping from it" Jamie said and Ned turned to look at him, instantly despising him.

The man with the mane of blonde hair laughed back at him.

"Leave, my brother be, unless you want certain secrets to go out into the open" Lyanna said, approaching them and smiled gently to Jamie who scowled at her.

 _Certain secrets? What did Lyanna have on Jamie Lannister?_ , Ned suddenly wondered.

Lannister walked away from them fast and Lyanna laughed at him. "Look how the lion walks away from the wolf. I hope he remembers not to toy with the Starks in the future"

Then as she eyed a bright flaming sword, Lyanna run to it and before long she had been lost in the crowd. Ned was still holding Benjen by the arm and they tried to locate their sister, yet they could not find her.

"Hear, hear. Soon the prince that was promised shall come. Hear, hear" the man with the glowing sword said.

He was wearing a hood and Ned could not discern his facial characteristics. When the fire finally died from the blade the crowd dispersed.

"Where is Lya?" Benjen asked worried and Ned finally spied her. She was near the Godswood and she was holding a blade.

 _Gods be good, I hope she has not done anything hasty_ , Ned thought to himself and run after her.

When he arrived he saw that she was fighting off three squires. One was already on the ground, holding a broken elbow while the other two were holding swords, yet it was evident that their thoughts were of fleeing. On the ground, lay a boy, no older than Ned. He was small, short and skinny. He had light brown hair and forest green eyes and he was sniffing.

"Lya" Ned called but his sister ignored him.

"Lya" he tried again. "Leave them be"

Lyanna jumped atop a tree and fell upon the first squire smashing him to the ground.

"Leave them be? They were attacking the poor boy for no other reason other than the fact that he was small. Is that what true knights do, dear sirs?" she demanded and smacked with the hilt of her sword the last squire's face.

When all of them were on the ground she smiled gently.

"Off with you" Ned commanded and not waiting to be told twice, he squires fled.

"What are you doing, Ned? You are just letting them get away with it?" she demanded and pointed at the poor boy who was on the ground. "He needs justice"

"I do not, my … Lady" the small boy said in a trembling tone of voice and rose in the air after Ned gave him a hand.

Bruises and cuts were covering his entire body, yet he smiled when he saw the Starks. "Thank you"

"He needs a Maester" Benjen pointed out.

The boy shook his head. "No, I do not. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Howland Reed of Greywater Watch. I know how to clean and treat wounds. It should be no problem"

"Don't be ridiculous we will take you to our Maester" Lyanna said, despite Howland's protests.

"But… I cannot move, my Lady… The skin is open, the wound may get infected…" he said in return.

Suddenly they heard a noise from the Godswood and Lyanna picked up her sword, while Ned did the same.

"Who is there?" she demanded.

Out of the shadows, a hooded figure appeared. He had white hair that reached his shoulders, but other than that, Ned could not discern anything else about him.

The man held his arms in the air. "I did not mean to frighten you, yet I heard the commotion and could not help but want to offer my aid. Though not a Maester, I have spent much time talking to one and I have read more than enough books. I can clean his wounds"

All of the Stark children eyed the man suspiciously, yet it was Howland who eagerly nodded. Despite their doubts, Lyanna allowed the stranger to clean Howland's wounds, while the boy sat against the weirwood tree in silence.

When he was done, Lyanna gave him a short thank you.

The man snickered as if what she had said was funny. "No, _thank you,_ my Lady"

Before long, the Starks were back in their tents with Howland following at their hills. They made jests, laughed and drunk until Ned's head was feeling cloudy.

"So, Ned, tell us. What did you think of Princess Elia Martell's ladies in waiting? I saw the way you were eyeing them. Like a hungry wolf!" Lyanna said excited.

Ned turned into a deep shade of red. "Princess Elia fell… I only wanted to help…"

"Sure, sure" Howland added in, finally coming at ease with the Starks. "Especially the one with the violet eyes is quite splendid, is she not?"

 _Violet eyes?,_ Ned wondered unsure as to who Howland meant. He had definitely seen her, though he did not remember her entirely…

"Ned, you should ask her to dance with you!" Lyanna exclaimed happily.

Eddard simply shook his head. Even Benjen was making fun of him.

"Fine, fine, enough talk about romance. Now… How should we punish the squires who attacked Howland?" Lyanna asked, eagerly.

Benjen jumped in the air, excited, while Ned pushed him back down.

"Lya, you have already given them quite a scare. Is that not enough?" he asked her, gently.

His sister considered it for only a second. "No"

Howland laughed and rose to the air grabbing a sword and pretending to be one of the squires.

The Starks laughed, though when he was done, Lya was eyeing him curiously.

"Would it not be fitting if you participated in the tournament and unhorsed each and every one of them?" she asked gently.

Howland gulped. "My Lady! In the Neck I am most capable of fighters, I can catch lizard-lions and avoid every trap and I can even kill grown men! Yet, I have never used a sword in my life, nor do I know how to ride a horse properly. I would shame myself further…"

Lya sat down smiling, thoughtfully.

"No" Ned simply said, guessing her thoughts.


End file.
